woman was going on right past it, still muttering to herself; but
Antonio, feeling very uncomfortable at the old crone's behaviour, and
being, moreover, stared at in astonishment by the passers-by, stopped
and said roughly, "Here--sit you down on these steps, old woman, and
have done with your talk; it will drive me mad. It is a fact that you
saw my sequins in the fiery images in the clouds; but, for that very
reason, what do you mean by prating about angels of light--bride--
maiden-widow--roses and myrtle-leaves? Do you want to make a fool of
me, you fearful woman, till some insane attempt hurries me to
destruction? You shall have a new hood--bread--sequins--all that you
want, but leave me alone." And he was about to make off hastily; but
the old woman caught him by the mantle, and cried in a shrill piercing
voice, "Tonino, my Tonino, do take a good look at me for once, or else
I must go to the very edge of the Square yonder and in despair throw
myself over into the sea." In order to avoid attracting more eyes upon
him than he was already doing, Antonio actually stood still. "Tonino,"
went on the old woman, "sit down here beside me; my heart is bursting,
I must tell you--Oh! do sit down here beside me." Antonio sat down on
the steps, but so as to turn his back upon her; and he took out his
account-book, whose white pages bore witness to the zeal with which he
did business on the Rialto.
The old woman now whispered very low, "Tonino, when you look upon my
shrivelled features, does there not dawn upon your mind the slightest,
faintest recollection of having known me formerly a long, long time
ago?" "I have already told you, old woman," replied Antonio in the same
low tones, and without turning round, "I have already told you, that I
feel drawn towards you in a way that I can't explain to myself, but I
don't attribute it to your ugly shrivelled face. Nay, when I look at
your strange black glittering eyes and sharp nose, at your blue lips
and long chin, and bristly grey hair, and when I hear your abominable
chuckling and laughing, and your confused talk, I rather turn away from
you with disgust, and am even inclined to believe that you possess some
execrable power for attracting me to you." "O God! God! God!" whined
the old dame, a prey to unspeakable pain, "what fiendish spirit of
darkness has put such fearful thoughts into your head? O Tonino, my
darling Tonino, the woman who took such tender loving care of you when
a child, and who saved your life from the most threatening danger on
that awful night--it was I."
In the first moments of startled surprise Antonio turned round as if
shot; but then he fixed his eyes upon the old woman's hideous face and
cried angrily, "So that is the way you think you are going to befool
me, you abominable insane old crone! The few recollections which I have
retained of my childhood are fresh and lively. That kind and pretty
lady who tended me--Oh! I can see her plainly now! She had a full
bright face with some colour in it--eyes gently smiling-beautiful dark-
brown hair--dainty hands; she could hardly be thirty years old, and
you--you, an old woman of ninety!" "O all ye saints of Heaven!"
interrupted the old dame, sobbing, "all ye blessed ones, what shall I
do to make my Tonino believe in me, his faithful Margaret?" "Margaret!"
murmured Antonio, "Margaret! That name falls upon my ears like music
heard a long long time ago, and for a long long time forgotten. But--
no, it is impossible--impossible." Then the old dame went on more
calmly, dropping her eyes, and scribbling as it were with her staff on
the ground, "You are right; the tall handsome man who used to take you
in his arms and kiss you and give you sweets was your father, Tonino;
and the language in which we spoke to each other was the beautiful
sonorous German. Your father was a rich and influential merchant in
Augsburg. His young and lovely wife died in giving birth to you. Then,
since he could not settle down in the place where his dearest lay
buried, he came hither to Venice, and brought me, your nurse, with him
to take care of you. That terrible night an awful fate overtook your
father, and also threatened you. I succeeded in saving you. A noble
Venetian adopted you; I, deprived of all means of support, had to
remain in Venice.
"My father, a barber-surgeon, of whom it was said that he practised
forbidden science as well, had made me familiar from my earliest
childhood with the mysterious virtues of Nature's remedies. By him I
was taught to wander through the fields and woods, learning the
properties of many healing herbs, of many insignificant mosses, the
hours when they should be plucked and gathered, and how to mix the
juices of the various simples. But to this knowledge there was added a
very special gift, which Heaven has endowed me with for some
inscrutable purpose. I often see future events as if in a dim and
distant mirror; and almost without any conscious effort of will, I
declare in expressions which are unintelligible to myself what I have
seen; for some unknown Power compels me, and I cannot resist it. Now
when I had to stay behind in Venice, deserted of all the world, I
resolved to earn a livelihood by means of my tried skill. In a brief
time I cured the most dangerous diseases. And furthermore, as my
presence alone had a beneficial effect upon my patients, and the soft
stroking of my hand often brought them past the crisis in a few
minutes, my fame necessarily soon spread through the town, and money
came pouring in in streams. This awakened the jealousy of the
physicians, quacks who sold their pills and essences in St. Mark's
Square, on the Rialto, and in the Mint, poisoning their patients
instead of curing them. They spread abroad that I was in league with
the devil himself; and they were believed by the superstitious folk. I
was soon arrested and brought before the ecclesiastical tribunal. O my
Tonino, what horrid tortures did they inflict upon me in order to force
from me a confession of the most damnable of all alliances! I remained
firm. My hair turned white; my body withered up to a mummy; my feet and
hands were paralysed. But there was still the terrible rack left--the
cunningest invention of the foul fiend,--and it extorted from me a
confession at which I shudder even now. I was to be burnt alive; but
when the earthquake shook the foundations of the palaces and of the
great prison, the door of the underground dungeon in which I lay
confined sprang open of itself, and I staggered up out of my grave as
it were through rubbish and ruins.21 O Tonino, you called me an old
woman of ninety; I am hardly more than fifty. This lean, emaciated
body, this hideously distorted face, this icicle-like hair, these lame
feet--no, it was not the lapse of years, it was only unspeakable
tortures which could in a few months change me thus from a strong woman
into the monstrous creature I now am. And my hideous chuckling and
laughing--this was forced from me by the last strain on the rack, at
the memory of which my hair even now stands on an end, and I feel
altogether as if I were locked in a red-hot coat of mail; and since
that time I have been constantly subject to it; it attacks me without
my being able to check it. So don't stand any longer in awe of me,
Tonino, Oh! it was indeed your heart which told you that as a little
boy you lay on my bosom." "Woman," said Antonio hoarsely, wrapped up in
his own thoughts, "woman, I feel as if I must believe you. But who was
my father? What was he called? What was the awful fate which overtook
him on that terrible night? Who was it who adopted me? And--what was
that occurrence in my life which now, like some potent magical spell
from a strange and unknown world, exercises an irresistible sway over
my soul, so that all my thoughts are dissipated into a dark night-like
sea, so to speak? When you tell me all this, you mysterious woman, then
I will believe you." "Tonino," replied the old crone, sighing, "for
your own sake I must keep silent; but the time when I may speak will
soon come. The Fontego--the Fontego--keep away from the Fontego."
"Oh!" cried Antonio angrily, "you need not begin to speak your dark
sentences again to enchant me by some devilish wile or other. My heart
is rent, you must speak, or"---- "Stop," interrupted she, "no
threats--am I not your faithful nurse, who tended you?"---- Without
waiting to hear what the old woman had got further to say, he picked
himself up and ran away swiftly. From a distance he shouted to her,
"You shall nevertheless have a new hood, and as many sequins besides as
you like."
It was in truth a remarkable spectacle, to see the old Doge Marino
Falieri and his youthful wife: he, strong enough and robust enough in
very truth, but with a grey beard, and innumerable wrinkles in his
rusty brown face, with some difficulty bearing his head erect, forming
a pathetic figure as he strode along; she, a perfect picture of grace,
with the pure gentleness of an angel in her divinely beautiful face, an
irresistible charm in her longing glances, a queenly dignity enthroned
upon her open lily-white brow, shadowed by her dark locks, a sweet
smile upon her cheeks and lips, her pretty head bent with winsome
submissiveness, her slender form moving with ease, scarce seeming to
touch the earth--a beautiful lady in fact, a native of another and a
higher world. Of course you have seen angelic forms like this,
conceived and painted by the old masters. Such was Annunciata. How then
could it be otherwise but that every one who saw her was astonished and
enraptured with her beauty, and all the fiery youths of the Seignory
were consumed with passion, measuring the old Doge with mocking looks,
and swearing in their hearts that they would be the Mars to this
Vulcan, let the consequences be what they might? Annunciata soon found
herself surrounded with admirers, to whose flattering and seductive
words she listened quietly and graciously, without thinking anything in
particular about them. The conception which her pure angelic spirit had
formed of her relation to her aged and princely husband was that she
ought to honour him as her supreme lord, and cling to him with all the
unquestioning fidelity of a submissive handmaiden. He treated her
kindly, nay tenderly; he pressed her to his ice-cold heart and called
her his darling; he heaped up all the jewels he could find upon her;
what else could she wish for from him, what other rights could she have
upon him? In this way, therefore, it was impossible for the thought of
unfaithfulness to the old man ever in any way to find lodgment in her
mind; all that lay beyond the narrow circle of these limited relations
was to this good child an unknown region, whose forbidden borders were
wrapped in dark mists, unseen and unsuspected by her. Hence all efforts
to win her love were fruitless.
But the flames of passion--of love for the beautiful Dogess--burned in
none so violently and so uncontrolled as in Michele Steno.
Notwithstanding his youth, he was invested with the important and
influential post of Member of the Council of Forty. Relying upon this
fact, as well as upon his personal beauty, he felt confident of
success. Old Marino Falieri he did not fear in the least; and, indeed,
the old man seemed to indulge less frequently in his violent outbreaks
of furious passion, and to have laid aside his rugged untamable
fierceness, since his marriage. There he sat beside his beautiful
Annunciata, spruce and prim, in the richest, gayest apparel, smirking
and smiling, challenging in the sweet glances of his grey eyes,--from
which a treacherous tear stole from time to time,--those who were
present to say if any one of them could boast of such a wife as his.
Instead of speaking in the rough arrogant tone of voice in which he had
formerly been in the habit of expressing himself, he whispered, scarce
moving his lips, addressed every one in the most amiable manner, and
granted the most absurd petitions. Who would have recognised in this
weak amorous old man the same Falieri who had in a fit of passion
buffeted the bishop22 on Corpus Christi Day at Treviso, and who had
defeated the valiant Morbassan. This growing weakness spurred on
Michele Steno to attempt the most extravagant schemes. Annunciata did
not understand why he was constantly pursuing her with his looks and
words; she had no conception of his real purpose, but always preserved
the same gentle, calm, and friendly bearing towards him. It was just
this quiet unconscious behaviour, however, which drove him wild, which
drove him to despair almost. He determined to effect his end by
sinister means. He managed to involve Annunciata's most confidential
maid in a love intrigue, and she at last permitted him to visit her at
night. Thus he believed he had paved a way to Annunciata's unpolluted
chamber; but the Eternal Power willed that this treacherous iniquity
should recoil upon the head of its wicked author.
One night it chanced that the Doge, who had just received the ill
tidings of the battle which Nicolo Pisani had lost against Doria off
Porto Longo,23 was unable to sleep owing to care and anxiety, and was
rambling through the passages of the Ducal Palace. Then he became aware
of a shadow stealing apparently out of Annunciata's apartments and
creeping towards the stairs. He at once rushed towards it; it was
Michele Steno leaving his mistress. A terrible thought flashed across
Falieri's mind; with the cry "Annunciata!" he threw himself upon Steno
with his drawn dagger in his hand. But Steno, who was stronger and more
agile than the old man, averted the thrust, and knocked him down with a
violent blow of his fist; then, laughing loudly and shouting,
"Annunciata! Annunciata!" he rushed downstairs. The old man picked
himself up and stole towards Annunciata's apartments, his heart on fire
with the torments of hell. All was quiet, as still as the grave. He
knocked; a strange maid opened the door--not the one who was in the
habit of sleeping near Annunciata's chamber. "What does my princely
husband command at this late and unusual hour?" asked Annunciata in a
calm and sweetly gentle tone, for she had meanwhile thrown on a light
night-robe and was now come forward. Old Falieri stared at her
speechless; then, raising both hands above his head, he cried, "No, it
is not possible, it is not possible." "What is not possible, my
princely sir?" asked Annunciata, startled at the deep solemn tones of
the old man's voice. But Falieri, without answering her question,
turned to the maid, "Why are _you_ sleeping here? why does not Luigia
sleep here as usual?" "Oh!" replied the little one, "Luigia would make
me exchange places with her to-night; she is sleeping in the ante-room
close by the stairs." "Close by the stairs!" echoed Falieri, delighted;
and he hurried away to the ante-room. At his loud knocking Luigia
opened the door; and when she saw the Doge, her master's face inflamed
with rage, and his flashing eyes, she threw herself upon her bare knees
and confessed her shame, which was set beyond all doubt by a pair of
elegant gentleman's gloves lying on the easy-chair, whilst the sweet
scent about them betrayed their dandified owner. Hotly incensed at
Steno's unheard-of impudence, the Doge wrote to him next morning,
forbidding him, on pain of banishment from the town, to approach the
Ducal Palace, or the presence of the Doge and Dogess.
Michele Steno was wild with fury at the failure of his well-planned
scheme, and at the disgrace of being thus banished from the presence of
his idol. Now when he had to see from a distance how gently and kindly
the Dogess spoke to other young men of the Seignory--that was indeed
her natural manner--his envy and the violence of his passion filled his
mind with evil thoughts. The Dogess had without doubt only scorned him
because he had been anticipated by others with better luck; and he had
the hardihood to utter his thoughts openly and publicly. Now whether it
was that old Falieri had tidings of this shameless talk, or whether he
came to look upon the occurrence of that memorable night as the warning
finger of destiny, or whether now, in spite of all his calmness and
equanimity, and his perfect confidence in the fidelity of his wife, he
saw clearly the danger of the unnatural position in which he stood in
respect to her--at any rate he became ill-tempered and morose. He was
plagued and tortured by all the fiends of jealousy, and confined
Annunciata to the inner apartments of the Ducal Palace, so that no man
ever set eyes upon her. Bodoeri took his niece's part, and soundly
rated old Falieri; but he would not hear of any change in his conduct.
All this took place shortly before Holy Thursday. On the occasion of
the popular sports which take place on this day in St. Mark's Square,
it was customary for the Dogess to take her seat beside the Doge, under
a canopy erected on the balcony which lies opposite to the Piazetti.
Bodoeri reminded the Doge of this custom, and told him that it would be
very absurd, and sure to draw down upon him the mocking laughter of
both populace and Seignory, if, in the teeth of custom and usage, he
let his perverse jealousy exclude Annunciata from this honour. "Do you
think," replied old Falieri, whose pride was immediately aroused, "do
you think I am such an idiotic old fool that I am afraid to show my
most precious jewel for fear of thievish hands, and that I could not
prevent her being stolen from me with my good sword? No, old man, you
are mistaken; to-morrow Annunciata shall go with me in solemn
procession across St. Mark's Square, that the people may see their
Dogess, and on Holy Thursday she shall receive the nosegay from the
bold sailor who comes sailing down out of the air to her." The Doge was
thinking of a very ancient custom as he said these words. On Holy
Thursday a bold fellow from amongst the people is drawn up from the sea
to the summit of the tower of St. Mark's, in a machine that resembles a
little ship and is suspended on ropes, then he shoots from the top of
the tower with the speed of an arrow down to the Square where the Doge
and Dogess are sitting, and presents a nosegay of flowers to the
Dogess, or to the Doge if he is alone.
The next day the Doge carried out his intention. Annunciata had to don
her most magnificent robes; and surrounded by the Seignory and attended
by pages and guards, she and Falieri crossed the Square when it was
swarming with people. They pushed and squeezed themselves to death
almost to see the beautiful Dogess; and he who succeeded in setting
eyes upon her thought he had taken a peep into Paradise and had beheld
the loveliest of the bright and beautiful angels. But according to
Venetian habits, in the midst of the wildest outbreaks of their frantic
admiration, here and there were heard all sorts of satiric phrases and
rhymes--and coarse enough too--aimed at old Falieri and his young wife.
Falieri, however, appeared not to notice them, but strode along as
pathetically as possible at Annunciata's side, smirking and smiling all
over his face, and free on this occasion from all jealousy, although he
must have seen the glances full of burning passion which were directed
upon his beautiful lady from all sides. Arrived before the principal
entrance to the Palace, the guards had some difficulty in driving back
the crowd, so that the Doge and Dogess might go in; but here and there
were still standing isolated knots of better-dressed citizens, who
could not very well be refused entrance into even the inner quadrangle
of the Palace. Now it happened just at the moment that the Dogess
entered the quadrangle, that a young man, who with a few others stood
under the portico, fell down suddenly upon the hard marble floor, as if
dead, with the loud scream, "O good God! good God!" The people ran
together from every side and surrounded the dead man, so that the
Dogess could not see him; yet, as the young man fell, she felt as if a
red-hot knife were suddenly thrust into her heart; she grew pale; she
reeled, and was only prevented from fainting by the smelling-bottles of
the ladies who hastened to her assistance. Old Falieri, greatly alarmed
and put out by the accident, wished the young man and his fit anywhere;
and he carried his Annunciata, who hung her pretty head on her bosom
and closed her eyes like a sick dove, himself up the steps into her own
apartments in the interior of the Palace, although it was very hard
work for him to do so.
Meanwhile the people, who had increased to crowds in the inner
quadrangle, had been spectators of a remarkable scene. They were about
to lift up the young man, whom they took to be quite dead, and carry
him away, when an ugly old beggar-woman, all in rags, came limping up
with a loud wail of grief; and punching their sides and ribs with her
sharp elbows she made a way for herself through the thick of the crowd.
When she at length saw the senseless youth, she cried, "Let him be,
fools; you stupid people, let him be; he is not dead." Then she
squatted down beside him; and taking his head in her lap she gently
rubbed and stroked his forehead, calling him by the sweetest of names.
As the people noted the old woman's ugly apish face, and the repulsive
play of its muscles, bending over the young fellow's fine handsome
face, his soft features now stiff and pale as in death, when they saw
her filthy rags fluttering about over the rich clothing the young man
wore, and her lean brownish-yellow arms and long hands trembling upon
his forehead and exposed breast--they could not in truth resist
shuddering with awe. It looked as if it were the grinning form of death
himself in whose arms the young man lay. Hence the crowd standing round
slipped away quietly one after the other, till there were only a few
left They, when the young man opened his eyes with a deep sigh, took
him up and carried him, at the old woman's request, to the Grand Canal,
where a gondola took them both on board, the old woman and the youth,
and brought them to the house which she had indicated as his dwelling.
Need it be said that the young man was Antonio, and that the old woman
was the beggar of the steps of the Franciscan Church, who wanted to
make herself out to be his nurse?
When Antonio was quite recovered from his stupefaction and perceived
the old woman at his bed-side, and knew that she had just been giving
him some strengthening drops, he said brokenly in a hoarse voice,
bending a long gloomy melancholy gaze upon her, "_You_ with me,
Margaret--that is good; what more faithful nurse could I have found
than you? Oh! forgive me, mother, that I, a doltish, senseless boy,
doubted for an instant what you discovered to me. Yes, you are _the_
Margaret who reared me, who cared for me and tended me; I knew it all
the time, but some evil spirit bewildered my thoughts. I have seen her;
it is she--it is she. Did I not tell you there was some mysterious
magical power dwelling in me, which exercised an uncontrollable
supremacy over me? It has emerged from its obscurity dazzling with
light, to effect my destruction through nameless joy. I now know all--
everything. Was not my foster-father Bertuccio Nenolo, and did he not
bring me up at his country-seat near Treviso?" "Yes, yes," replied the
old woman, "it was indeed Bertuccio Nenolo, the great sea-captain, whom
the sea devoured as he was about to adorn his temples with the victor's
wreath." "Don't interrupt me," continued Antonio; "listen patiently to
what I have to say.